


at peace

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, Knives, a lot of sadness tbh, death mention, wow what did i even write jfc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 05:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20168926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: PP3 AU in which Beca and Amy are the ones held hostage, and the Bellas are none the wiser. Beca knows she doesn’t have much time, but she has to talk to Chloe. She has to finally tell Chloe how she feels.





	at peace

**Author's Note:**

> At request, this sad little drabble in response to [this prompt](https://snowbritt.tumblr.com/post/186846146620) became a two-parter, so it's all here in one. I hope y'all enjoy it!

They say the Kübler-Ross model applies to the terminally ill; those who know they’re dying, but are struggling to accept it.

There are five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and, finally, acceptance.

Beca has never thought much into it at all. Why would she? She’s twenty-two years old, she’s healthy, she has no reason to think about the cruel hands of death reaching so carelessly out to her, dragging her in much earlier than her time.

It surprises her, though, as she lay on the cold, hardwood floor of the.. whatever room this is, that those five stages all seem to come and go at once. It takes her all of thirty seconds to deny that that sharp pain in her side could’ve come from the cold blade of a knife puncturing through her skin, hitting vital organs, to feeling angry at the coward rushing from the room with his calloused hand covering his bearded face, eyes wide as if in complete disbelief.

He was the one wielding a fucking _knife_, she thinks, how does _he_ seem so surprised?

Beca doesn’t believe in God. At least, she doesn’t think she does. But she finds herself silently begging someone, anyone, to wake her from what she wants to call a nightmare. She wishes so hard that she could snap her eyes open and she’d wake in her hotel bed, that ugly wallpaper hanging up before her, and her only issue that of breaking the news to the other girls that Khaled had chosen her. Not the Bellas… Just her.

The tears come not forty seconds later. They stain her cheeks, rolling silently down pale skin. Beca is positioned on her side, gravity doing its job as salty liquid begins to pool on the ground beneath her.

Ten seconds later and she is moving a bloody hand from the gaping wound on her side, the one that doesn’t hurt anymore. Only a minute ago, Beca would claim that she had never felt pain like it, but now it just feels… Numb. _She_ feels numb. And as her fingers stretch to the iPhone in her back pocket, screen cracked from the impact of the fall—something Beca could’ve sworn had happened in slow motion, but the state of her screen would call her a liar—she isn’t thinking about it at all.

Beca isn’t paralyzed with fear, she isn’t begging whoever is up there to let her wake from this hellish nightmare.

Instead, all she is thinking about is Chloe.

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid. Her body feels limp, cold. Beca is literally _dying_, yet all she can think about is flaming red hair and ocean blue eyes.

And all of the things she never got to tell her. All of the things Chloe deserves to hear.

The smallest movement takes more time than Beca is used to. It’s like she’s frail, lame. She wants to do something so simple, she wants to unlock her phone and tap on Chloe’s contact, something she has done so many times before that it is just second nature to her by now, but her thumb is moving at an excruciatingly slow pace, and Beca allows an aggravated sob to slip through her cracked, parted lips.

Somehow, she musters up the strength, and by the time the phone is lifted to her ear, eyes closed as she gulps down labored breaths, she can hear that almost melodic voice ringing out from the speaker.

“Um, Beca? Are you there? Did you butt-dial me?”

Beca takes a sharp breath in. It causes the dull pain in her side to pick up, though it lessens on her slow exhale, and Beca forces all sadness from her voice. She doesn’t mean for it to sound so croaky, so exhausted, but she can’t help herself.

“Beca?”

“Hey. Yeah, Chlo. It’s me. I’m here,” Beca responds in the most normal voice she can manage. She has the urge to cough, to clear her dry throat, but she refuses to let herself. She doesn’t want to give away any hint of there being anything wrong. She doesn’t want to worry Chloe. She just… She just wants to talk to her.

“Oh, hey! Where are you? The girls and I have been looking for you guys everywhere. Are you with Amy?”

The last thing Beca feels like doing is smiling, but her lips seem to tug upward slightly at the lighthearted sound of Chloe’s voice. The familiarity of it is so comforting, so peaceful somehow. Chloe is like her comfort blanket, and Beca isn’t afraid anymore. “Yeah. Hey, um, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

There is a brief pause, before Chloe’s voice rings through the receiver again.

“Are you okay? You sound kind of weird. Are you sick?”

Beca takes that as her out.

“Yeah, I just have a sore throat,” Beca lies easily. Her response seems to be good enough for Chloe.

“Oh. Well, you should come back to the hotel, let me take care of you. You don’t want to make yourself even more sick.”

The sincere level of concern in Chloe’s voice is palpable, and tells Beca she is doing the right thing by keeping her in the dark. If Chloe is worried about something as simple as a sore throat, God only knows how she’d feel if she knew the truth. If she knew that Beca was lying here in an unfamiliar room, life gradually escaping her with each passing moment.

“Um, yeah.” Beca chooses not to tell her she’ll be there soon, because that would be a lie, and Beca has spent enough time lying to Chloe. She has spent four long, drawn out years lying to Chloe. If Beca had been truthful with her, she’d tell her she’d been in love with her from the first time she’d laid eyes on her. The first time that little redhead in the blue dress with eyes that shone like sapphires had caught her attention, waving a flyer for a dumb a cappella group in her face, Beca had fallen hard, and she’d never managed to get back up.

Beca’s voice is still strained and croaky as she continues, though she has her sore throat cover to block more questions for now. “Remember earlier, when you were all smiley and even more adorable than usual?”

“Adorable?” There is a shy kind of giggle sounding through the phone, one that causes Beca’s teeth to sink gently into her bottom lip as she pictures the familiar look on Chloe’s face. She can see it so clearly, the way Chloe’s eyes crinkle at the sides, her cheeks overtaken with a rosy tint of subtle pink.

“Uhh, I don’t know about that. But I know when you’re talking about, yes. What about it?”

“You know you’re adorable, Chlo,” Beca says in a softer, quieter voice. She finds that it’s easier this way; she doesn’t sound as strained. The fabric of her shirt is clinging to her body, and Beca doesn’t dare look down, she doesn’t want to see the deep red liquid pooling around her. She just wants to focus on Chloe. Just Chloe.

“Why was that? I mean, did you hear some news or something?”

It had taken a while for Chloe Beale to figure out her life plan. But when she’d finally decided on vet school, on a career that Beca thought was absolutely perfect for her, she’d thrown her whole heart and soul into it, the same way she’d always done the Bellas. Beca knows Chloe has been waiting for a phone call, and while she hasn’t said so, Beca is pretty sure she has been even more nervous about it than Chloe has. She wonders if it came, if that’s why Chloe’s eyes were shining more brightly than ever before when Beca had seen her earlier today.

Beca doesn’t allow herself to think about how that was the last time. She won’t.

“News? What kind of news?” Chloe asks, her voice almost sing-song sounding.

The playful tone makes Beca chuckle quietly under her breath, the movement doing nothing to help the wound in her side. But she can’t focus on that right now. Beca has precious little time left with Chloe Beale, and she’s going to spend it focusing on her. “Did they call?”

There is a pause, and Beca worries for half a second that the line has gone dead, that they’ve been cut off somehow. But then she hears her again, she hears that familiar, beautiful voice, and suddenly she feels okay.

“Ugh, okay, you can’t say anything, okay?” Chloe begins slowly, her voice lowering some. Beca wonders if Chloe is around any of the other girls, though she doesn’t ask. She just listens, allows Chloe to continue. “I was going to wait until we were all together later, but I did get the call. I got it this morning. I got into vet school!”

Beca can practically _hear_ the smile on Chloe’s face. She can feel her joy radiating through the phone, through the airwaves. It’s almost like Chloe is right beside her. Beca is not on a boat in the middle of nowhere, held hostage by Amy’s father like something from a poor, badly thought out action movie. And Chloe isn’t back at the hotel. They’re together, they’re right there next to one another, and Beca finds herself stretching out an arm, as if to reach out to Chloe. She wants to feel her beside her, and takes comfort in imagining that Chloe is so much closer.

“That’s so incredible, Chloe.” Beca pauses to catch her breath, to normalize her tone. “I mean, I knew you’d get in, but I’m so happy for you,” Beca says, her genuine excitement stifled by her current situation.

“Thank you! I’m so happy,” Chloe practically squeals, and that’s what Beca had wanted. When she’d called, she’d wanted to hear Chloe the way she would always think of her. That happy, melodic tone, that pep that, if it were coming from anybody else, would have Beca rolling her eyes hard enough for people to literally _hear_. But because it’s Chloe, all she can feel is grateful. That’s Chloe Beale. It’s her Chloe. And that’s all Beca had wanted.

“You know I’m so proud of you, right?” Beca doesn’t even realize her voice has quietened. She hasn’t done it intentionally, but the room has begun to spin, her breathing growing faster.

“What? Bec, I can barely hear you. Where are you?”

Beca ignores the question.

“I’m proud of you, Chlo. I’m so proud of you, and…” Beca’s hesitation makes no sense. She doesn’t have the time to hesitate. She doesn’t _want_ to hesitate. So, she forces herself to keep going, to say the one thing she has wanted to say to Chloe for four years now. “And I love you, Chloe.”

Chloe’s voice softens some as well, and Beca notes that her tone sounds almost bashful in response. “I love you too, Bec… Are you sure you’re okay? Where are you?”

Beca’s eyes have closed, short breaths fewer and further between. The room is still, calm, and Chloe’s voice sounds angelic in her ear. Heavenly.

“Beca? Bec, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

It’s that worry, that sudden air of concern that snaps Beca back to the present. She feels cold, she feels numb all over, and she feels the sweet release of sleep taking over her, but Chloe’s voice pulls her back, if only for a moment, just to reassure her. Because the last thing Beca had wanted to do was upset her. That’s the last thing she ever wants to do.

“I have to go, okay?” Beca whispers, salty tears beginning to sting the backs of her eyes once more. “Just… Know that I love you, okay? I love you.”

“Bec? I love you, too. Beca—”

Chloe’s voice sounds distant now, because Beca has pulled the phone slowly away from her ear, her shaky thumb sweeping slowly across the end call button. If she could’ve stayed with Chloe longer, she would’ve. God, she would’ve stayed with her so much longer. Beca would’ve told her so much more, she would’ve told her so much more and she would’ve done it so many times.

But it’s out there now. Those words Beca has wanted to speak so many times, that emotion she has wanted to convey to the one person whose existence is helping her to feel anything but afraid, it’s all out there.

And Beca can close her eyes now. She loves Chloe Beale, and Chloe loves her in return.

Beca can close her eyes. She can be at peace.

* * *

Chloe doesn’t know how to put this pain into words. In fact, even the word _pain_ seems so insufficient, so tame. No word in the English dictionary can describe the way Chloe is feeling as she sits, crumpled, with her back to the hard wall, eyes sore and cheeks stained with slowly falling tears. They come and go at random now. One minute, Chloe is sobbing, and the next she’s back to staring. Just staring. Because Chloe cannot process her thoughts. She just… She can’t believe that this has happened.

Of course, Chloe is not the only one that is upset. The other girls are all in shock, too. They’re all devastated, naturally so. And Beca’s parents… God, Beca’s parents. Chloe can’t even bring herself to look at them. It is a good thing Aubrey has such a comforting presence to her, because she is doing what she can to keep everybody afloat.

They’re all upset, but Chloe has taken it the hardest. And maybe there’s a reason for that.

No, she knows there is.

The girls have learned quickly to leave her alone. They don’t want to, they keep hovering around her, but Chloe refuses to say anything. At best they’ll get a brief glance, one that’s shot their way through thick, salty tears, but most of the time Chloe feels like she’s just looking right through them, and they know to just let her be.

While she is in the room, Chloe feels like she’s somewhere else entirely; somewhere alone. It is only at the feeling of an arm brushing against her own that she snaps back to reality. Chloe doesn’t look up, though. She knows it’s Emily. She can tell by the sound of her quiet sniffles, her soft, desperate sobs. And as Emily slides down the wall beside her, Chloe doesn’t push her away. She lets Emily lean against her, and finds herself slowly reaching out a hand to catch Emily’s shaky fingers in her own.

And that’s all the comfort Chloe is willing to take right now, because she doesn’t feel like she deserves it.

How she could’ve been so oblivious, so _stupid_, she doesn’t know. Chloe had noticed right away that something sounded different about Beca, that something just wasn’t right. But she’d accepted Beca’s excuses, she’d sat there and sipped on her daiquiri, talking about something as trivial as _school_, while Beca was just…

It has been almost two days now, and Chloe still cannot bring herself to say it. She can’t even think it. All she can do is bask in her own regret, her own desperate sadness, and wish to whoever might be up there that they could turn back time, and that Chloe could’ve handled things differently.

_“Just… Know that I love you, okay? I love you.”_

Those final words swirl around in Chloe’s misty head, those final moments on a continuous, excruciating loop. She had found it weird the first time, when Beca had told her she loved her as if from nowhere. They’re best friends, it is an unspoken understanding between them that they love each other. They don’t say it often, but they both know it, and Chloe had assumed it was just one of those brief, rare instances where Beca had wanted to remind her. She hadn’t thought it could mean anything else, anything deeper.

Then again, Chloe has conditioned herself not to do that, not to think too deeply when it comes to her relationship with Beca Mitchell. Because although Chloe has always acted content with the fact that that’s all there is to it, that they’re ‘just friends’, she knows that they’re not. The startling image of those familiar blue eyes pops like electricity into her head, and Chloe knows that they’re not just friends, she knows that they never were.

Of course, the second admission had sent Chloe into hyperawareness, into the active feeling that something just wasn’t okay, and she’d tried multiple times to call Beca back, but hadn’t received an answer. So, she’d called for help right away, a frenzy of worry and utter panic overtaking her. Phone tracking is a weird and wonderful tool, and it had come in handy yesterday, it had helped the necessary people to find exactly where Beca was—on a boat, in the middle of the ocean—and it had helped them to find her.

Then, they’d told Chloe what had happened, what they’d found, _how_ they’d found her. And time seemed to stop right there and then. In that moment, everything just… Stopped. And Chloe’s whole world fell right the way apart.

Chloe hasn’t slept. Naturally, she hasn’t slept. And she has wanted to. God, she has wished she could just close her eyes and take herself away to some other world, some other time, but it just hasn’t happened. Not until now, anyway. As she slumps against the wall, Emily curled into her side, Chloe doesn’t notice the way her heavy lids flutter slowly shut, and the place she goes becomes her new reality, at least for now.

* * *

“You know you’re only going to scare yourself,” Beca says matter-of-factly, a pointed frown sent in Chloe’s direction as she plops down onto the hotel bed. The bowl of freshly popped popcorn shakes with the impact, and a few pieces fly over the edge.

“Careful!” Chloe warns, her tone light and giggle soft as she scrambles to pick the pieces back up again. She notices the way Beca is facing her, legs crossed pretzel style and mouth hanging open. A slender finger raises and points at her open mouth, and Chloe playfully rolls her eyes, readying herself to throw each of the four pieces for Beca to catch. Three of them, she does so expertly, but the fourth hits the floor behind her, and Chloe considers getting up to go retrieve it, but she figures it can wait until later.

“I’ve seen this one before, it won’t scare me,” Chloe shrugs, picking up the bowl and holding it tightly in one hand as she shuffles back to make herself comfortable against the plush, propped up pillows. Chloe rests the small bowl in her lap, then pats the space beside her, blue eyes sparking as she looks toward Beca. “Maybe _you’re_ scared.”

“Please,” Beca scoffs, grabbing the television remote and quickly scrambling toward the head of the bed to sink down beside Chloe. “I don’t even like movies, I’m not going to be paying attention to it.”

An auburn brow arches as she eyes Beca, edge of her mouth curved into a small, amused smirk. “Then why are you even here?”

A hand digs quickly into the bowl of popcorn, more pieces flying out messily—maybe they made too much, or they at least needed a bigger bowl—and Beca quickly pops a piece into her mouth. “I’m just here for the popcorn.”

Chloe’s response is a playful, sarcastic eye roll. They both know why Beca is here. The other girls have gone to bed, Chloe had been texting Beca that she couldn’t sleep, and it turned out that Beca couldn’t, either. So, they’d decided to spend a little time in Chloe’s hotel room, some old horror movie playing on the TV screen while they each enjoyed the company.

And the popcorn, apparently.

“Did you know that this is based on a true story?” Chloe questions conversationally, humming to herself as she raises the remote to point it at the TV. The movie begins playing, and Chloe settles in comfortably, Beca’s small frame pressed lightly to her side.

“Sure it is,” Beca nods shortly, her tone entirely unconvinced.

“It is! It was all over the news and stuff when it happened. The guy heard voices telling him to murder his whole family. It’s a real thing.”

Beca’s hand reaches out for more popcorn, and Chloe feels a gentle nudge to her arm, one that makes her grin as she glances down toward Beca.

“Just watch your movie, weirdo.”

For a while, she does. Though, Chloe finds herself stealing glances here and there, each time noticing the way Beca’s gaze is glued to the screen. Chloe feels silently proud that she has actually gotten Beca to focus on a movie, something Beca Mitchell actively dislikes. Apparently, anyway.

Before she’d asked Beca to come to her room, she really had been wide awake. Admittedly, though, Chloe has gotten used to sharing a bed with Beca, considering the small size of their shoebox apartment back home in the city, but she doesn’t realize until her eyes flutter open to see the end credits rolling that that’s probably why she has been struggling to sleep this whole time. It has been weird having a whole bed to herself again.

As Chloe blinks into the near darkness, she notices first that the popcorn bowl is almost empty, and next that Beca is still awake beside her, eyes still on the television screen.

“I thought you weren’t going to pay any attention,” Chloe mumbles sleepily, lips curling upward and into a lazy smile as her eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. “Did it scare you?”

Beca lets out an exaggerated scoff in response. “No. I couldn’t pay attention to it anyway, you were snoring too loudly.” Chloe notices that Beca’s voice is softer, almost a little mumbled the same way as her own. She can tell that Beca has made it through the movie, but that sleep is definitely creeping up on her.

“Mm, then maybe you want to head back to your room, because I’m about to start snoring again in about five minutes,” Chloe chuckles breathily, propping herself further upright against the now deflated pillows behind her. Her hair is unruly and tangled from the position in which she had fallen asleep, and while she brushes her fingers through it halfheartedly, she knows she doesn’t really care.

Rolling onto her side, her arms stretch out to wrap around the top pillow, Chloe’s sleepy gaze fixed up on a still sitting Beca. “Well? Are you going?”

Beca thinks for a moment, or at least she pretends to, before finally shaking her head. “No, I might as well just stay here now. I’m comfy.”

“Oh yeah?” Chloe raises a brow, biting back her amused expression. “Are you sure you’re not just too scared to go and sleep on your own now?”

There is a gentle, playful swat to her arm at that, one that Chloe responds to with a quiet chuckle under her breath, then Beca is sinking further down into the pillows and tugging the comforter over her middle, evidently having made herself comfortable for the night. “No,” Beca insists adamantly, “Go back to sleep, Chlo.”

“Mhmm.” Chloe’s eyes are hooded, sleep desperate to drag her back out of consciousness. She is going to succumb to it soon, she knows it, so she turns onto her side, back toward Beca, and fumbles around blindly on the mattress to find the remote. Chloe swats at buttons until the screen dims and darkness falls all over the room. “Goodnight, Bec.”

“Night.”

It can’t be more than two minutes later that Chloe feels herself drifting back breezily to dreamland, though the shifting of the body behind her, shuffling closer until Chloe is her little spoon, brings her back to the present for a brief moment. Chloe feels an arm drape coolly across her middle, and her hand is soon finding its way to Beca’s, their fingers interlacing so easily. The same way they do all the time.

“Knew you were scared,” Chloe mumbles in quiet amusement, pad of her thumb brushing gently over the back of soft knuckles.

There is the feeling of delicate lips pressing lightly to her shoulder, leaving her with a gentle kiss that causes her body to tingle.

“Shh.”

Beca doesn’t deny it.

* * *

“Chloe?”

It is unfamiliar, the voice breaking into her peaceful sleep, so much so that Chloe almost ignores it, almost switches right back off and tries to claw her way back to that precious memory. Eventually, it is the sound of Aubrey’s voice that properly wakes her, though.

“Chloe is sleeping, Professor Mitchell,” Aubrey says, her volume hushed. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Her eyes remain closed at first, with Chloe just mindlessly listening to the exchange, though they shoot open fast enough to make her slightly dizzy as Beca’s father continues.

“Bec’s awake, she’s asking to see her.”

It’s almost surprising, the way Chloe can go from zero to one hundred. One moment, she is laid against the wall, head sagging to the side as it rests against Emily’s shoulder, and the next she is up on her feet, shaking herself awake.

“She’s awake?” Chloe questions almost dumbly, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly.

Mr. Mitchell responds with a half smile and a singular nod of his head. “Yes, Chloe. She’s asking for you.”

For Chloe, following Beca’s father down the long hospital corridor is almost as terrifying as the time she had waited between those phone calls. Chloe doesn’t know what to expect; she doesn’t want to see her best friend hooked up to tubes and machines, but the idea of _not_ seeing her is only more upsetting, so she follows in silence, straightening out her crinkled shirt on the way. The colorful stripes feel so out of place against the crisp white walls, but Chloe isn’t thinking about that. She isn’t thinking about anything. Only Beca.

Once they reach the correct room, Mr. Mitchell slowly pushes open the door. “Delivery for you, Bec,” he jokes in a light, gentle tone, stepping aside to motion Chloe inside. A part of her is still scared to look, though it is impossible for her gaze not to immediately train itself on Beca, clad in her hospital gown and propped up in an admittedly uncomfortable looking bed.

“Mom and I will be in the family room with the girls,” Mr. Mitchell announces. “If you need anything, you just have Chloe come get us, okay?”

Beca nods, and her father disappears, leaving the two of them alone.

It takes a moment for Chloe to step forward, to finally find her voice. She doesn’t mean for it to sound so choked up once she does, so small and pathetic, but she can’t help herself.

“Hi,” Chloe just above whispers, familiar tears prickling the backs of her eyes. She glances briefly to the tubes and the wires, but her main focus is Beca. It’s those eyes, the way they stare back at her, the way Chloe can see a film of clear liquid welling up beneath her lids. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey, no. Stop,” Beca soothes, reaching out a hand from beneath the thin blanket. Her voice sounds croaky and sore, the same way it had when they’d spoken on the phone. “I’m fine, okay? The doctors said I’m going to be just fine. You don’t need to cry, Chlo.”

Chloe’s feet are moving much too slowly for her liking. It’s almost like she is afraid to get too close, like she’s acting cautiously, but soon her hand is touching Beca’s, and she feels that familiar feeling of crooked fingers wrapping around her own, exactly the way they’re supposed to.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help, Becs?” Chloe almost pleads, her own voice sounding so broken and pathetic in her ears. There are fresh tears sliding down her cheeks, though Chloe doesn’t see the point in wiping them away. She has a feeling they’d only be replaced in a matter of seconds.

Chloe lowers into the chair positioned beside the bed, her hand clutching tightly onto Beca’s. “You called me, and I was right there, and you didn’t tell me.” There is a kind of desperate begging to her words, though she knows it won’t do anything now. They can’t change the past, after all. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

The way Beca laughs quietly is almost unbelievable to Chloe. Then again, it makes sense. That’s Beca’s defense mechanism when something proves too much for her to handle, so Chloe chooses not to draw attention to the tear slipping slowly down Beca’s cheek, and just lets her have her moment.

“What was I supposed to say?”

“You were supposed to ask for help,” Chloe presses, her frustration diluted by the sadness in her voice, the tears still streaming freely down her cheeks.

“And you helped me, didn’t you?” There is a kindness to Beca’s sad eyes, one that makes Chloe feel so coddled, so protected. It seems stupid really. Beca is the one in the hospital bed, Beca is the one who has been fighting for her life, yet Chloe is the one who needs the reassurance. “Look where I am. I’m right here, I’m okay.”

“But what if you weren’t?” The words leave Chloe’s lips amidst quiet sobs now, her hand gripping a little more tightly onto Beca’s, as if she is scared of either of them letting go. Beca only strengthens her grip in return. “What if you’d…”

Chloe _still_ cannot bring herself to say it.

It seems to pain her a little bit, judging by the scrunched up expression on her face as she shifts over slightly in the bed, but Beca turns to face Chloe, other hand reaching over to gently cup her own. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to be afraid.”

“Beca, I’ve been terrified this whole time. I didn’t want to… I don’t want to lose you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“And you think you’re gonna?” Although her voice is hoarse, eyes still streaming, there is a lighter tone to Beca’s voice, an almost playful one. It is one that Chloe recognizes, one that comforts her beyond reason. “Dude, I was stabbed two days ago and I’m still here. I’m still with you. Nothing’s going to change that, Chlo.”

“But why did you call me? You could’ve called the cops, or an ambulance or… Or anything.”

Usually, Beca is so guarded, she isn’t so free with her words. But maybe it’s the whole near death experience thing, maybe it has helped to open her up a little bit, because she sounds so strong and so sure, in spite of her gentle volume, as she answers Chloe’s question.

“Because I really thought that was it, you know? I thought I was gone. And I didn’t want the last voice I heard to be some emergency services person who I didn’t even understand. I wanted it to be you.”

Chloe has so many questions. So many _more_ questions. But as her gaze locks with Beca’s, as blue eyes meet that beautiful, familiar blue Chloe has stared into so many times before, she has all of the answers she needs, at least for right now.

One hand moves away from her own, though the other remains clutched tightly, and Beca flicks away the tears falling down her cheeks. “You know I was serious, right? What I told you?”

Chloe just stares, vision blurred by her salty tears. She doesn’t say anything, she just stares, just waits for Beca to go on.

“This is harder to say to your face,” Beca laughs softly under her breath, swiping away a fresh tear before it gets the chance to fall. “If I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you… You know… _That_. I don’t know what— Well, I just know it would’ve sucked.”

Chloe doesn’t feel like laughing. Her heart is racing harder than she thinks it ever has done before, and she’s still so upset, so devastated about the thought of losing the one person she can’t even imagine her life without. But, in spite of herself, Chloe cannot help the quiet, barely audible laugh that falls from her lips in response. _It would’ve sucked._ It’s just such a Beca thing to say.

It takes a moment for her to find her feet again, but Chloe eventually stands from the seat, shuffling closer to the hospital bed. There is room for her to perch down on the edge, so she does, being careful not to touch or dislodge any of the wires sticking out of only God knows where.

Chloe’s free hand rises to gently push stray strands of mousy hair from Beca’s warm forehead, and Chloe tucks them neatly behind her ear, blue eyes studying that familiar face. There is a sense of silence around them, broken only by the sounds of the machines doing their job, but it is not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels almost natural.

“You know that you didn’t have to be in that situation to tell me, right? You could’ve just told me.”

Beca shrugs her shoulder lamely, an almost apologetic smile sent in Chloe’s direction. “Yeah, well. It just seemed more romantic that way.” The teasing tone to her voice causes Chloe to roll her tired eyes, though her prior anger has subsided, and all she can feel is grateful. Chloe’s heart is racing for a whole different reason now.

“You know I love my romcoms,” Chloe responds in her own small, playful tone, the words pulling a faint smile from Beca, propped up in the bed before her.

“And your horror movies.”

“Those too.”

The air has changed between them now. It’s not cautious or filled with sheer terror the way it had been only moments ago when Chloe had walked into the room with no idea of what to expect. It is comfortable now, it is the same way it usually is between them. Of course, neither is usually laid up in a hospital bed recovering from an almost fatal stab wound, but it’s… It’s comfortable.

Chloe’s tongue flicks out over the part in her dry lips, and she watches Beca intently for a moment, studies her expression. She takes in the way Beca’s eyes still shine so brightly in spite of everything, the way her hair is messy and wavy as it flows over her shoulders. Chloe takes in everything Beca Mitchell, everything she’d been so terrified she’d never get to see again.

“So what do we do now?” Chloe finally asks, voice calm and quiet. It’s like they’re talking in private, sharing secrets that they’ve held so closely for the longest time, secrets they only want to share with each other.

“I don’t know,” Beca admits, bottom lip sucking in between her teeth. “I guess that’s something we can figure out together.”

“You’re right,” Chloe agrees, gaze never leaving Beca’s face. Chloe’s tears have stopped finally, and it seems that Beca’s have, too. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Beca nods into the comfortable quiet.

“And Becs?”

Familiar eyes move up to meet with her own. “Yeah?”

A small silence follows, though there is no hesitation. Chloe is just grateful that Beca is here, that they’re both here, and that she can finally speak the words she has wanted to for so long now. Things can be at peace.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's been some confusion as to how many parts this is in! This was initially posted to tumblr, and it was just the part with Beca on the boat (part one). I then posted Chloe's perspective in the hospital (part two), but combined them both into one for the sake of posting it here on ao3.


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